Precious Broken Things
by ursweetheartless
Summary: when he was young, Itachi lost something that was precious to him, and now he's ready to find it and get it back. AU, ItachixSomeone, Uchihacest, wait for it, it WILL make sense
1. Prologue

ÿþTitle: Precious Broken Things  
Author: ursweetheartles (ME!)  
Rating: pg ish here  
Warnings: none really, its a prologue after all  
Status: prologue to wip

Prologue:

The Ginza club is smoky and dark, five floors above the street; usually full of businessmen and white collar criminals, looking to make deals in semi private. This is a Yakuza block, the police won't venture here, and as long as neither the area or the organization is harmed, it is an accepted practice. The room isn't very big, the sign at street level advertises it as intimate, with a bar running the whole of one wall; always lined with people on weeknights, when the salary men stop to get a drink on their way home. During the day, the tables are set up on the main floor, and food is served. Nothing fancy, just fast and relatively palatable. It isn t arestaurant after all, just a bar that serves food sometimes.

On the weekend evenings though, the tables are almost always full and a small stage is dragged out, a beat up old miniature baby grand piano beside it. All week the girls wait tables and cook and tend bar, but each weekend they take turns taking the stage. It's nothing raunchy or showy, no striptease or sex show, this is a reputable establishment; more or less. Its simply a sweet song or two, some sparkly costumes and softly swaying hips.

They don't all come for the girls. In fact most of the time it's too loud to hear them clearly over the raucous of the weekend alcoholics, hopping from club to club, stopping for warm food and cheap liquor. That's why Itachi liked coming then, he could get lost in the noise and the chaos, nursing his drink at the bar. It was never the best sake, he could definitely afford better, but it wasn't the sake he was here for. Not the sake, definitely not the food, certainly not the artful urban decay permeating the atmosphere. No, it was something different.

You see, when he was younger, Itachi had lost something, something he would give anything to have back. Something he didn't appreciate at the time. It was in the wake of the death of his family, Mother and Father, on a trip overseas. But he had stayed behind. He felt alone then, disconnected from everything he had once held dear by this split, but his grieving was short, his perspective forever skewed, but not by sadness. It was then that he had been first approached.

He had been in high school then, close to graduating, but a troubled boy. He was smart enough to be top of his class without even trying, but he cared little for actually showing up at school, causing him to come close to dropping out. But he had been found, and he had been saved, and he had worked hard to get to where he was now, he had been loyal and ruthless and showed nothing but strength. His face was known in all the right places.

But that s why he never went to those places, he didn't want to be known. He had recently been given permission to pursue his own goals, for the time being, for his service. He had risen through ranks faster than anyone had before, he became legend in this, he had brought respect to the shizoku. For this he was granted the time to search for what he had lost, if he came back to the fold when he had found it.

It had taken months of searching, still doing small services for his master. Most of his resources went to his search though. And now he had found what he had lost. Funny thing was, now that he was here, now that he could see it with his own eyes, he had lost his nerve, again. So he came each weekend, to watch, to wait, to ponder. One of these days, it would be the day, Itachi could feel it. Then he could take his most precious thing home with him, and keep it safe and close, for the rest of time.


	2. Part One

1) 

It was late when Mayu chased the last of the men out of the bar. The clientele who stayed this late were always men, always a little more drunk than was probably good, but it wasn't their job to question or judge; it was their job to empty the place out. The blonde girl sighed, wiping her forehead with her sleeve, sighing. She hadn't been on stage that night, so she had been on her feet all night, waiting tables. She never worked the bar, not having the experience for it, but Shikamura, the quiet boy who bartended most nights had promised to teach her sometime, when he had the time. He'd been taking classes during the day, trying to get a degree in some thing or another and leave this place behind. It was a nice sentiment, but Mayu wasn't sure the boy _could _ leave, when all the cards were down. 

The man who owned the little bar, though much of the time ruling in absentia, ran a pretty tight ship there. He treated his employees like a little family, treating them better then they could have gotten elsewhere and paying them pretty damn well to boot. In return, he expected loyalty and hard work. She had heard from the customers that the man had been in the Yakuza once, and she didn't doubt it. It would explain the missing fingers on his right hand. He was quite an intimidating figure, not someone she would cross, but he took care of them, and didn't show a sign of distrusting them at all. Most nights he never bothered to show up. He left the actual business of the bar up to the manager, Yori, a pleasant but vaguely oily little man, and Shikamura, the kid behind the bar. They were the one's who closed and opened the place; they had the keys, made the orders, and took the money to the bank every night at closing. The man did show up on a rather regular schedule though, whenever Shinobu was scheduled to take the little stage. 

That girl was a mystery wrapped around an enigma, there was a wall behind her eyes and the one time Mayu had managed to see beyond that wall, she had been struck by the hopeless gloom she saw there. It was a little painful, really, seeing her co-worker like that. There were only a few girls who worked the bar, it was a small staff that stuck together like a family, and they had all tried to reach out to Shinobu, without much affect. It wasn't that the girl was hostile or deliberate in her isolation, she was always nice enough, but that awkward distance always remained, like some moat around her. In fact, the only one on staff the girl seemed halfway comfortable around was Shikamura. 

One of the girls had thought early on that they might be lovers, and Mayu, being the bravest, and most curious, had brought it up one night, when the boy had been closing. The bartender had just blushed and sputtered, saying they were cousins, _nothing more._ Shikamura and Shinobu were a strange pair really, and they had been working there the longest, the first to be hired when the bar had been founded six years ago. The fact that neither of them had left yet spoke volumes of the inescapable nature of their current situation in itself. 

Mayu sighed, leaning against the wall by the door, watching Shikamura polish the glasses set out on the bar in front of him one by one, setting each gently on the mirrored shelf behind him as he finished. She wondered idly how much he really knew about his cousin, _obviously_ more than he was telling the rest of the staff, but he probably had his reasons for that. She started a little at the slam of the door to the kitchen and smiled as Shinobu herself walked into the room, empty dishpan set on one hip, and set to work picking up the candle from each of the small tables, blowing it out before setting it in the bin and moving on. 

She really was beautiful, with short black hair pressed straight and curved into a little bob that hovered just below her chin at each shift of her head, the ends uneven in a trendy sort of way. Her skin was pale and smooth, her eyes dark, always a little sunken looking off stage; like she spent too much time worrying, not sleeping or eating like she should. Mayu sighed, before pushing herself to her feet. 

"Hey Shishi, want some help there?" The girl snapped her head up in surprise, obviously snapped from some distracted little world of her own. Her delicate lips quickly pressed a smile though, and she shook her head gently. 

"I think I'm fine here. There isn't much left to do here really, if you want to head out. I can get Shika to help me with the tables when he's done back there." She flicked her head in the direction of the boy behind the bar, who shot a smile over. Mayu sighed again before crossing her arms rubbing them against the slight cold. 

"Yeah I guess, if you're sure-" a brief pause, but the other girl just nodded, "- I'll be off then. See you tomorrow then?" Shinobu smiled again. 

"Around noon, right?" 

"I thought you were on stage tomorrow, it's Friday, right?" The other girl sighed; shoulder's hunching a little, and Mayu couldn't help wrinkling her brow ever so slightly in confusion. Shinobu's voice was forcibly bright when she spoke next though, reaching for the last candle. 

"Well that's good then, I guess I'll see you at six then, unless someone needs me to cover an earlier shift or something..." Mayu shook her head, but it was the deeper voice of Shikamura that spoke next, slumping forward over the bar top with a smirk. 

"Naw, we're good tomorrow, all you have to do is show up ready to sing Shishi." The girl scowled at her cousin then. He had been the one who came up with the affectionate nickname for the girl, and she still scowled at him every time he used it, even though she'd grown quite comfortable with it from everybody else there. Mayu smiled a little, and called a final goodbye before letting herself out, leaving the other two alone to lock up. 

X 

Shikamura sighed, as the door fell shut, and waited until he heard the feet retreating down the stairs before speaking, stopping the girl at the door to the kitchen. 

"Hey ... just be careful okay? He's been showing up a lot lately. I - I don't think he _knows _ really, but just to be safe ... you know..." Shinobu smiled weakly at him, nodding once before pushing her way into the kitchen. 

"Yeah, I will."


	3. Part Two

2) 

Dull flat white skin, sunken eyes, ruffled hair. Shinobu sat at the mirror in the dressing room, just staring. There was hatred in the dark eyes, pale hands shaking slightly. Her head tuned, snapped from her reverie by the sharp rap on the door behind her. She breathed, closing her eyes and settling herself before turning, calling out softly, watching as the familiar form of Shikamura appeared, quickly closing the dressing room door behind him. 

It was small, not a dressing room really, but a storage room with a giant vanity, an ancient mammoth of teak and brass and mirror, with so many light bulbs surrounding it that every time she tried she lost count. She felt the familiar hand on the back of her neck then, and she forced a smile. 

"Are you sure you're okay? Can you do this?" There was a definite worried note in Shikamura's voice, his head cocked to one side as he looked at her. He had already told her he would tell the boss she was sick if he didn't want to go out there. Shikamura knew there was a good possibility that _He_ would be here tonight, and he wasn't sure how the girl would react. She moulded her own hand onto his, squeezing reassuringly. 

"I'm fine, really. Now help me get ready before the boss gets upset. Wouldn't want to have to cut off one of my pretty little fingers to get back in his good graces, I'd never get good at piano then." The joke made him smile, withdrawing his hand, spinning her chair around to face him. 

Shinobu took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

_The dark kohl ghosted over pale skin like a dream, matte white applied around the eyes, lifting them, brightening them. Then came the colours, red along the edges of the lids, just outside the smoky line of kohl, purple across the eye. Dark pencil outlined tired lips, drawing them out slightly, plumping them up before the space was filled with rouge, a dark deep wine colour. The powder came last, pale as chalk, sitting perfectly against the skin underneath. _

i Dark hair was pinned back, a few strands left hanging around the face before the long wig was seated snugly over top, secured with clips around the interior edges. It fit like a glove, like it was made for this head. The long hair was carefully pressed and coifed, tamed into a tumbling confection, garnished with purple flowers, black feathers, glittering crystals too light to be diamonds, but refracting enough light for it not to really matter. 

The last step was the dress - most difficult really - much more steering and struggling involved, but still the eyes stayed closed. Shimmering purple, deep and dark, looking perfect against her pale skin. Some things have to be more carefully arranged, but it fits like a glove, mandarin neckline hugging to the base of her neck, a zipper sliding closed and a row of tiny buttons and she's standing then, ready for anything. Two deep breaths, slow and smooth, despite the racing heart. 

Dark eyes slide open, its time. 

X 

The lights are dimmed now in the bar, like they are all across town. The tables are all packed full now, and the bar itself is lined with patrons, drinks in hand. Everyone chatting a bit more quietly as the tall man sits at the piano, letting a few notes fall experimentally before shaping them into some improvised melody; more to signal what is coming to the crowd than anything else. This isn't a show though, these people didn't come in here to see this really, at least not this crowd - mostly trendy young people, heading to the clubs after this, cheap drinks to start the night. 

A pale girl in a beautiful purple dress takes the stage, a small spotlight is trained on her, still dim, like all the other lights, but it's enough to make her sparkle and that is enough. She has a hushed conversation with the man at the piano, before taking the microphone in one hand and closing her eyes once more. She opens her mouth. 

_ "Ghost of yesterday_

stalking 'round my room

all night long you stay

walk around profound gloom" 

Everyone still talks around them, some bobbing their head in time, a few salary-men at the bar turn to ogle her, eyes on her curves more than her voice. SHe doesn't see ay of this. 

_ when the darkness falls_

when I've gone to bed

weirdly come your calls

mournfully, scornfully dead 

Words are falling from her lips like drops of hot glass into water, solidifying into beautiful things that refract the light as much as the sequins on her dress or the rhinestones in her hair. Her eyes are still pressed closed, a little tighter now than before, the line of her back tenser. She tries to breathe deeply, when she can, but the flow of the music is much more important now.

i folly of a love strangled

_pulsing heart I thought was gone_

gives no peace

will not cease 

She can feel eyes on her, and not the normal lingering glances of the perverts in the back, slightly drunk and sometimes pushy, but nothing Shikamura can't handle after the show. It's a different kind of gaze she feels. She doesn't open her eyes, doesn't want to know for sure. It terrifies her, she just wants to finish and get off of the stage, away from them. 

_ prowling round till dawn_

ghost of yesterday

every night you're here

whispering away 

She shivers slightly, the ending notes of the song drifting through the room, as the pianist switches almost seamlessly back to the improvisational swing of the soft jazz he played briefly earlier, just quiet enough to fade to the back, but sharp enough to still feel trendy. Shinobu shivers as she steps down, careful not to look out over the audience, just wanting to get into the dressing room, tell Shikamura she can't do any more, not tonight. It's too hard, she can feel the beating of her heart in her ears. 

Then she's behind the door again, and Shikamura is lifting the wig away, releasing the catch, because he can tell by the tears that have started to leak down her face that she's not going back on, not tonight. He sighs. 

X 

Itachi could tell, with those opening notes, that he had really found that most precious thing, and word-by-word, he found the feeling in his stomach growing stronger, the tightness in his chest more insistent. He knew he had what he needed within his reach now. All he had to do was close his fingers around it, and he could put it back where it belonged; he could put it back at his side.


End file.
